


Hjem

by absolutelyCancerous (cal1brations)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, but also den pounding nor's brains out as well ya feel, domestic dennor is so important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/absolutelyCancerous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts out simple. Just a text, or a call. Today it’s a text, which is nicer than a phone call he’d probably roll his eyes at. Norway slips his phone out of his pocket as he gets into his car, just getting out of a long, dry meeting, and huffs a smile at the lone text he actually cares to look over from Denmark.</p>
<p>
  <i>Feel like staying home tonight? :)</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hjem

So, sometimes they do silly domestic things that are so plain and boring that they should be laughed upon but aren't, because it's in everyone's nature to enjoy what they don't often, or ever, have.

It starts out simple. Just a text, or a call. Today it’s a text, which is nicer than a phone call he’d probably roll his eyes at. Norway slips his phone out of his pocket as he gets into his car, just getting out of a long, dry meeting, and huffs a smile at the lone text he actually cares to look over from Denmark.

_Feel like staying home tonight? :)_

And it's so disgustingly, anger-inducingly cute and simple, Norway has to sit with his phone in his hand for a long moment before he can think of a proper answer better than “what the hell do you think?” because, really, text is just not as effective as face-to-face sarcasm.

He tells Denmark "yes" in so many words, and starts the car. He has time to catch the ferry, which is nice, because if they’re going to pretend to be so undeniably human for the day, Norway figures it wouldn’t be fair to use higher-power type of travel, even if it _is_ quicker for him.

Nonetheless, Denmark tells him he’s in Skagen, which is a much shorter trip than to Copenhagen, and Norway is secretly grateful. He tells Norway to hurry, since he’s already got dinner cooking, and also bides for him to bring a coat, since it’s been windy all week.

Norway rolls his eyes at the mother henning, but can’t resist smiling a little as he finally sets out.

\---

Denmark’s right and Norway feels like he has a bit of wind burn on his cheeks as he shoves the door open and closes it behind him just as fast. He sighs at the warmth of the house compared to the chill of outside, and slowly begins shrugging out of his coat, tossing it over the banister gently as he peeks around.

This house is fairly old, but not _old_ in the slightest. The floors squeak a bit when one walks. Hot water is limited. But it’s near the ocean, and Denmark seems to like coming here when he wants a break from the city; it gets so quiet, Norway is surprised Denmark really likes it here at all.

Speaking of Denmark, Norway finds him in the kitchen, slicing up vegetables and humming a song Norway doesn’t know, but it sounds ridiculous enough to suit Denmark and his tastes. He sneaks up to Denmark’s side as he works and kisses his shoulder, which makes Denmark snap his head to him and grin.

“ _Hey_!” He greets, so much cheer in his tone that it’s probably illegal. He drops his task to wrap his arms around Norway, kissing his cheek as he holds him tight, and Norway hugs him back a little, too, if he’s honest.

“Usually you don’t get here so early!” Denmark remarks as they part, kissing Norway’s lips. Just a quick peck, but Norway’s mouth still tingles a little when they part, perhaps because of the warmth of Denmark’s lips.

“I just made one of the earlier ferries,” Norway mumbles, turning to the stove to peek into the pot boiling there, which Denmark smacks him away from with a grin.

“Go sit! It’s almost done, anyway, I don’t need your help.” It might sound rude to anyone else, but it’s only truth, but Norway rolls his eyes anyway and leaves Denmark to finish up as he continues looking around.

The only reason Norway knows this house isn’t as old as some of the others is because it doesn’t have many old things _in_ it. Denmark’s apartment in Copenhagen, for example, has lots of his old things. Old uniforms, old journals and books, antique tables and chairs. Here is less modern than the apartment, in a way, but the things in it are completely different.

The only thing Norway really knows is the bookshelf he can see in the living room, lined with a few dozen books and some picture frames here and there (this house has hundreds of pictures scattered around, all framed and taken care of). Norway moves over to pick out one of the books, to see if he recognizes the title, but is surprised to see one of the lower shelves lined with nothing but albums. Curiously, he pulls one out, holding it up as he smooths a hand over the soft texture of the cover. He looks to Denmark in the kitchen, making sure he’s still there before he opens the album, smiling just a little bit to himself. The first thing inside is a letter, definitely from Iceland, Norway can tell by the writing, and he wants to laugh at Denmark’s sentimentality.

But Denmark calls him for dinner before he gets much further, and Norway hurries to set the album down gently on the sofa before returning to the kitchen, helping Denmark bring their meal to the table (which, unsurprisingly, is already set; Denmark’s good with this stuff).

They sit and eat together happily, Denmark chatting about this and that and Norway nodding and responding  and even laughing every now and again. They hold hands above the table simply because it’s an act of affection, of closeness and simple touching that feels nice to have over a good meal-- but, as Norway will never admit out loud, Denmark’s meals are usually very good.

Even after dinner, their disgusting domesticity doesn’t end. They work on dishes together, elbow-to-elbow, sometimes splashing each other for jest but otherwise they’re relatively calm; it’s relaxing. They don’t have to talk about work or politics or _anything_ right now, just whatever that can be said, anything that _wants_ to be said.

When their finished, Denmark demands a proper cuddle on the sofa, which Norway rolls his eyes at, but decides to indulge. After all, he’s not as stupid as to turn down a little snuggling, especially from the ultimate cuddler.

However, Denmark flops on the couch before he, and certainly takes notice of the photo album Norway has left out. He scoops it up quietly as Norway takes his seat and settles up with him, curiously peering over his shoulder as Denmark begins to flip through it.

“This one’s a lot of Ice and I,” he tells Norway quietly, and Norway doesn’t miss the sweet little smile Denmark has as he flips through pages upon pages of old photos, some recent, but most are old and fairly grainy. Towards the end are a few with Norway and Denmark together as well, and Norway arches a brow at that as Denmark laughs.

“I wanted to keep ‘em safe! They’re safer in an album than in a frame,” Denmark tries to defend, but Norway keeps turning the pages and ignores him, smiling _just_ a little. There’s a recent set of photos in here from when they spent time together in London after one of the larger meetings, and Norway has to swallow down a little laugh at a picture he specifically remembers taking, wherein Denmark is standing in a torrential downpour, arms held out and head held back, looking an absolute fool. But it’s so simply _like_ him that it just makes Norway smile.

Denmark grins a little, leaning in to kiss Norway’s cheek when he sees him looking over the photos so fondly. “ _Mm_ , remember what we did that night?” He purrs against the base of Norway’s ear, grinning when Norway shivers from the hum of his voice so close.

“You weaseled into my bed for the night, I’m aware.”

“ _And…_ ” Denmark prompts with a grin, pressing a long kiss to Norway’s cheek, as if to kick him into remembering quicker.

“And what?” Norway counters, feigning disinterest; as long as Denmark is willing to rise to the bait, Norway is _always_ up for getting frisky.

Norway seems to be in luck, because Denmark moves the album to the coffee table, getting up and holding out his hands for Norway with a little grin. He makes a loud, playful sigh as he shakes his head. “I guess I’ll have to refresh your memory, huh?”

“Guess so,” Norway sighs in turn, hoisting himself up via Denmark’s hands. They scurry up the stairs to the bedroom, and Norway is a little delighted to see how neat the bed looks-- those are definitely crisp sheets Denmark set out for them tonight.

It’s a bit of a shame they’re going to be rumpled and dirtied by tomorrow.

Denmark starts it all off with a kiss. He goes in to hold Norway’s face in his hands like Norway’s the most precious thing he could _ever_ hold, and kisses him, eager and deep, not wanting to waste a moment, even though they’ve got nowhere to be and nothing else to do but each other.

Clothes are shed just before they’re flopping to the bed, Denmark’s laughter spilling against Norway’s mouth as they pass kisses between one another, hands eagerly skimming over warm skin that feels just like home.

Norway pauses for a moment, asking Denmark if he actually has anything in here, and Denmark groans as he reaches down under the bed (half hanging off, Norway notes with an annoyed little snort) to scrounge up a bottle of lube, holding it away from Norway when he reaches for it.

“Nah, I had to get it, so I get to use it on you,” Denmark tells him with a wide grin, and Norway gives him a little glare, before he sits up.

“If that’s the case, then _I_ get to choose what position,” Norway tells him, and doesn’t leave Denmark room to argue (not that he would; even if Denmark is a bossy brat half the time, he’s pretty fair with things like this; he likes making Norway happy). He kisses him, bruisingly hard as Denmark’s hands fumble with the lube, snapping the cap open and pouring the stuff over his fingers. It reeks of… orange and... _chocolate_ (maybe?), and Norway pulls a face, nose scrunched up as he grabs Denmark’s hand to sniff and subsequently, lick a bit of the lube from his fingers. Definitely flavored.

“How cool is _that_ , right?” Denmark asks with the stupidest grin, hands slathered with a mess of flavored lube, waiting for Norway to stop glaring at him. “It’s safe! _Jeez_ , Nor, you think I’d put your perfect ass in jeopardy? Ye of little faith?”

Norway rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time today, but promptly decides he’s going to take it on his belly. Denmark settles over him, kissing at his shoulder blades as he reaches down to slide a teasing finger down Norway’s crack, making him shiver as he presses his hips up, baring himself for Denmark’s teasing hand.

Norway makes a content little sigh when Denmark actually begins stretching him out, taking much more time with this task than in his rushed kisses before. Denmark might be a klutz at times, but like this, he’s pretty damn skilled, sliding his fingers in and out of Norway, making him fall into the rhythm of rocking in-tandem with his hand.

“Don’t get too carried away there,” Denmark purrs at the base of Norway’s neck, slathering wet little kisses there as he spreads Norway open with his fingers, grinning at the whispers of noises Norway makes against the sheets.

Norway gets to the point of fucking himself back on Denmark’s fingers, which is exactly where Denmark stops, taking his hand back and leaving Norway in a frustrated huff. He laughs, a little breathless because that was fucking _hot_ , and hurries to slather his cock; chocolate orange sounded good, but the smell is just a _little_ much, he notes with a little sniff.

Nonetheless, Norway is squirmy and his patience has run out, for he spreads his legs and arches his hips back with need when Denmark seems to be taking _forever_. Denmark laughs at the display, giving Norway’s rump a little pat as he settles between his legs as Norway gets more onto his hands and knees, letting his cock slide teasingly against Norway a few times before Denmark is surprised to hear a breathless hiss of “fuck!” that makes him grin wolfishly; Norway’s pretty cute when he’s desperate.

Because Norway is just _so_ in need (and Denmark must bust a nut just thinking about how needy Nor feels right now), Denmark decides to cease his teasing. He holds himself with a hand, carefully guiding himself inside Norway with a stuttering moan. It doesn’t how many times they do this, what position, when or how or why, because it always feels _so fucking good_ , Denmark can’t even wrap his head around why.

Norway’s back arches at the feeling of being filled, a filthy sigh leaving his mouth as he tilts his head back. Denmark grins at the sight, sliding a hand over the line of Norway’s spine as he slides all the way in, waiting for Norway to settle with the intrusion.

Norway, however, does not need the break Denmark grants him, and greedily fucks back on him, breath escaping him in the hottest little hiss that makes Denmark kick into gear.

He hold Norway’s hip with one hand, his other going to press between Norway’s shoulders, pressing him to bow his head to the mattress and arch his hips back. Much better, he grins when Norway seems so pliant to the position adjustment, and properly begins.

Denmark is a man of ferocity and passion, of fight and bite and all things that need to happen now, now, now. In bed, he is much of the same, and even when he’s trying to roll his hips into Norway in a slow, loving way, he can’t help when he gets ahead of himself, picking up his pace until he’s panting in-time with his thrusts. Norway’s little hitches of _ah, ah, ah_ , don’t escape him, and he throws his head back with a long groan in response; if sex was a language, it’d be their first, he thinks with a breathless laugh.

Lost in his incoherent thoughts of _so good_ and _so tight_ and _so hot_ , Denmark doesn’t notice when Norway reaches to touch himself, until he feels their rhythm falling away-- Nor’s close, and Denmark plans to make him _scream_. He moves to curve himself over Norway’s back, kissing the back of Norway’s neck as he jerks himself off, hips bucking back against Denmark to enjoy the fullness as he toes the edge of orgasm. He clenches his teeth together, so desperate to lose it, and Denmark makes another little laugh against him as he nibbles on Norway’s shoulder.

“Love you,” Denmark whispers against him, punctuates the words with a hard slam into Norway, which makes him cry out a throaty, unintelligible noise like _uh-n!_ as he spills into his hand, gasping as he writhes in pleasure, bucking back against Denmark and arching forward into his own hand.

Denmark doesn’t stop to take his time as he moves back, holding both of Norway’s hips with his hands as he slams into him, managing one, two, three-- announces his orgasm with Norway’s name spilling from his lips, over and over as he rides the crash of pleasure out as long as he can before he feels too overstimulated to do so, panting and sighing as he slows, slows, stops and moves to settle down against the bed with Norway, still inside, still so _fucking_ good.

Denmark mouths gently at Norway’s shoulder again, lavishing him in little kisses and warm grins. His hand reaches to slide around him, palm smoothing against Norway’s chest, and Norway curls their hands together quietly, holding the knot of their fingers at the level of his heart.

They talk a little more like that, with Denmark mumbling something against Norway’s skin or into his hair, and Norway humming his replies quietly, with significantly less eye rolling (maybe it’s a sexual tension thing? Denmark doesn’t care.). Norway presses his freezing toes to Denmark’s shins as well, pulling a face and tells him his legs are hairy, to which Denmark laughs at, stroking the trail of hair under Norway’s navel and telling him he’s one to talk.

Denmark, surprisingly, drops off to sleep first, snoring lightly against Norway’s skin, but he’s warm and quite the snuggler, so Norway doesn’t particularly care. He’s tired, too, he suddenly realizes when he notices he’s got his eyes close, and he curls back into Denmark quietly, sighing as he presses a kiss to their locked hands, and allows himself to fall asleep in Denmark’s bed, unbelievably at home.


End file.
